


and love is not a choice

by violentdarlings



Category: The Duchess (2008)
Genre: Everyone needs Bess Foster in their life, F/F, F/M, OT3, Polyamory, Post-Canon, does this count as RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentdarlings/pseuds/violentdarlings
Summary: Georgiana is sexually frustrated. Bess wants to help. William isn’t sure how he feels about it all, but whatever’s going to happen, he wants to watch.





	and love is not a choice

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Girls/Girls/Boys' by Panic! at the Disco.

Bess notices it first when Georgiana snaps at a servant. It’s an incident of exceeding rarity, since G is infinitely polite with the staff, in contrast to William, who can be something of an arse when the mood takes him. Bess watches in silence as the footman apologises and Georgiana immediately does the same, even though Bess is quite sure one is not meant to apologises to one’s servants. Thank the heavens that William is not there to see it.

But once the first sign takes Bess’s notice, she cannot stop seeing them. G, pacing fretfully before the fireplace rather than settled in her chair writing letters. G staring off into thin air as though imagining herself in another world. G unable to bear even an hour of William’s company, when the three of them have been so cosy of late, able to pass the evenings together in quiet companionship.

William has noticed, although Bess is sure he has not noticed he has noticed. But he too is quicker to anger, snappish, and Bess does not enjoy the idea of returning to those strained days of tension, where husband and wife glowered at one another from opposite ends of the dining table.

Well. William glowers. Georgiana merely gives him that bland, utterly meaningless social smile, her eyes shuttered as though she is a house preparing for a storm. Nothing infuriates William like Georgiana’s ability to pretend he is not there at all, as if there is not a single soul in the house but Georgiana herself. It is a singular ability, Bess must admit, and one she has no mastery of whatsoever. But then, she is not G.

There is no one quite like G.

Bess ponders on it for a few days. She considers lingering grief over G being forced to give up Eliza, but it is not that; G wears that grief like a favourite necklace, a sorrow that is sweetening over time. It is never far away from her, and she has made it her own. So Bess knows it is not that. Perhaps G feels smothered by their return to London, by having to resume her social duties, but Bess soon discards this idea as well. Georgiana is a social creature, like a butterfly fluttering about among caterpillars. It is not that either.

Once Bess makes sense of it, though, it all becomes clear. G had been consumed with her pregnancy, with bearing Grey’s child, but before that, Bess is aware, Georgiana had tasted the pleasures of the boudoir. She had adored Grey, given herself over to him completely, had come alive under his hands. Georgiana misses it. A woman has needs as well as a man does.

 

They’re sitting together in the evening, when Bess lays her embroidery aside. “William, G,” she begins, and waits until they’re both looking at her. “I wish for you both to join me in my bedchamber after we retire for the evening.”

Bess has enough Puckish mischief in her to enjoy their reactions. Georgiana drops her quill and William chokes on air. Bess does not let her amusement show, sitting as quiet and serene as a swan floating on a mill pond.

“For what purpose?” William asks eventually. Bess lowers her eyes, demure. She knows exactly how to keep him interested. Hasn’t she had to know, had to learn? She is fond of William, but neither of them make any bones about what they do for one another. He is her protection. She is his mistress.

“It would not do to say here, William,” she tells him, but she is watching G out of the corner of her eye. Georgiana cannot tolerate a secret; she must know everything, or it nags at her. G will come.

So will William. He is curious, and while a stranger would see no difference in his countenance than usual, Bess has studied William like a map. He nods sharply. Bess smiles, and rises.

“I will see you both later, then,” she says, and dips the usual obeisance, even though the three of them are alone. It is one of those realities of life that it would not do to get out of the habit of.

 

G is the first to come. Bess dresses herself for bed – she does not take long, but G comes just after she has finished. Even with the time Bess took to kiss her boys goodnight, it means G’s dresser must have rushed to get her ready for bed.

“You are planning something,” G observes as she sweeps into Bess’s room. Bess smiles at her, and just for a moment, it is like the old days, when they were often to be found with their heads bent together, planning some mischief or other. “What is it?”

“Not until William gets here,” Bess tells her serenely. G scowls, and sits in one of the chairs before the fireplace. Bess joins her.

Usually, Bess would have to wait hours for William to join her in her chambers, but she and G sit in companionable silence for no more than thirty minutes before there is a knock at the door. Bess rises. “Just remember, G,” she says to Georgiana, who has also looked up at the sound. “You are in charge. We let him think he is, but it is you who has the power.”

For the first time in too long, G’s smile is without sorrow. “Then by all means, let our husband in,” she tells Bess dryly.

William is still dressed; Bess expected nothing else. While she and G are comfortable enough walking from room to room in nightgown and robe, William would rather be seen dead than in a state of dishabille by the servants. He strides in, his expression wooden; Bess is not disheartened. William rarely shows any facial expression other than cold.

“What’s this business about, then?” he barks. Bess smiles at him.

“Would you care for a drink?” she asks him, purposefully avoiding the question. She knows it agitates him, but it’s the little joys that count.

“No. Why have you called me here?”

“You and G,” Bess reminds him. “Sit down, William.” His frame locks tight.

“Are you ordering me, woman?” Bess sighs.

“No,” she says tartly, but William does not notice the dryness. He never does. “I am only thinking of your comfort.”

He stalks over to the other chair, drops into it with a scowl and his usual wooden posture. Bess draws up a footstool in lieu of a third chair, and sits down. She must look up to meet William and G’s eyes, but that’s not a bother.

“G, you’ve been crotchety,” she tells her friend. “Do you know why?”

“I have not,” G says at once, but Bess can already see the wheels turning in Georgiana’s head, reviewing her behaviour these past weeks. “Oh, perhaps I have,” she says in surprise. “Bess, you know me so well.” She reaches out and clasps Bess’s hand warmly. “But I do not know why.” Bess draws in a deep breath, before the plunge.

“You have needs, G,” Bess tells her frankly. “Your body is as important as your mind. You need to be sated. And I know that you and William no longer share a bed.” Nor did William have any notion of how to please a woman such as G, but Bess is sensible enough not to say that.

“You’re not suggesting she takes a lover,” William starts, his expression darkening. Bess holds up a hand.

“No, my dear,” she says at once. It is not a good idea to let William get up a good head of steam, he can go on all night. “Not that at all. Merely that I help G with her… frustration.”

This does not seem to be helping William at all. “It’s obscene,” he says at once. “Congress is between a man and a woman, or not at all.” Bess could almost laugh at his surety, but it would not be wise.

“Nonsense,” she scoffs. “Two women in bed together, easing their ache – it is a tale as old as time. If G consents, of course.”

“I do,” Georgiana says lowly, and Bess can’t help a brief glance of shock at her friend. She thought G would refuse at once. “I miss being touched,” G says simply in reply to Bess’s look. “And I trust you will not harm me. I consent.”

“This is absurd,” William says, and his mouth is drawn into a thin, hard line. “I will not stand for it.” Bess lays a hand on his arm; she must reach up a little from her low perch.

“Come, my dear,” she says to him. “You will be here to supervise. If anything untoward occurs, you may tell us to stop.”

William looks slightly mollified.

Bess doesn’t wait for further permission. If William has time to think about something, that’s when problems arise; it is best just to get on with it. Bess rises, takes Georgiana’s hand in her own, and leads her over to the bed.

“Do I have to take my gown off?” G asks, her eyes darting anxiously away. Bess shakes her head. G does not like to be completely nude. It makes her feel vulnerable.

“Not for this,” Bess tells her, and climbs onto the bed. G stands there, wringing the sleeve of her robe between her fingers. “You don’t even have to take your robe up. Just come here and sit in front of me, like you do when I’m braiding your hair.”

Georgiana’s eyes brighten. She loves it when someone plays with her hair. She hops up onto the bed, and Bess arranges them as she likes; Bess sitting back against the pillows and G in front of her, her back is to Bess’s front, so Bess can bracket Georgiana’s legs with her own.

“See? Not so bad,” Bess teases, and runs her hands through Georgiana’s hair until G is almost purring. Out of the corner of her eye Bess can see William sitting by the fire as if warming his hands, but she’s sure he is observing everything occurring on the bed. He takes his responsibilities seriously.

When G is tranquil and quiet against Bess’s body, her head lolling back on Bess’s shoulder, Bess steels her nerve and kisses Georgiana lightly on the nape of her neck. G makes a soft, happy noise, and Bess kisses her again, the curve of her neck, the hollow behind her ear, nibbles gently on the soft lobe. With every kiss she is bolder, because G is swooning in her arms.

William is watching them now without pretence, and with more than a little curiosity. Bess doubts he has ever thought to kiss a woman’s neck a day in his life. William’s idea of lovemaking is hard and fast, brutally simple, as passionless as the act can be. No kissing, no embrace. Bess wishes it was not so, that she could introduce him to the pleasures she knows so well, could kneel astride him and ride him shamelessly. But William is not that kind of a lover.

G is ready; Bess reaches around and slips a hand up Georgiana’s skirts. G stiffens for a moment in alarm, but Bess kisses her throat again, bites softly at the pulse point in her neck, and G relaxes. Bess finds heat and wetness between G’s thighs, the exquisite softness of her, and starts to stroke.

G cries out aloud. “It’s so…” she says, tossing her head on Bess’s shoulder. “I don’t –”

“Relax, G,” Bess says, breathing the words into G’s ear. Georgiana shudders. “Close your eyes. I’m right here.”

“I need –”

“I know what you need.”

Bess moves her hand up, rubs the little nub of flesh she finds there until G is trembling in her arms. “Bess,” she says, softly enough that even Bess must strain to hear it. “Oh, please, Bess.”

William clears his throat. Bess glances over at him, and wishes she hadn’t; William’s eyes are burning, as bright as she’s ever seen them, and there is a noticeable bulge in his trousers. It’s not jealousy that makes her wish she hadn’t; merely that it rouses her own blood, to see him so stirred, and it would not do to be distracted.

“You can bring the chair closer, William,” Bess tells him. “If you like.”

The scraping of the chair against the floor rouses G for a moment, but Bess applies her fingertips in a fluttering motion and G is soon distracted again. William has moved the chair until he is barely a yard away, and Bess smiles at him over Georgiana’s shoulder.

“You have a lovely wife, William,” she tells him.

“I know,” he replies, sounding dazed, as if it’s the first time he’s noticed. Bess smirks. _Men_.

She refocusses on the woman in her arms. “William’s watching you, G,” Bess whispers, too low for William to hear, just for Georgiana alone. “He’s got a cock-stand, seeing you all flushed and trembling in my arms. He likes the way you look when you’re undone with pleasure.”

G moans, and those fluttery, shallow movements of her hips up into Bess’s hand start to come harder and faster. Bess slips her hand down the front of Georgiana’s gown, finds her nipple standing up hard, and pinches the bud between her fingers.

“Yes,” G is saying. “Yes, yes.” It’s the most erotic sound Bess has ever heard.

“It’s all right, G,” Bess tells her, and G’s head twists to the side, her chest heaving. Bess looks up, and finds William watching them from less than a yard away, his eyes are gem bright and fascinated. “It’s all right.”

 Georgiana’s body arches in Bess’s arms, G whimpering softly in her throat, and the swollen nub that Bess has been touching seems to harden and swell. There is a rush of wetness as well, and a musky smell on the air that Bess knows well, from her own pleasure, from the nights where she cannot resist dipping her fingers into the slick of her own body.

William cannot look away. His prick is clearly standing up now, a hard line in his trousers. It must be uncomfortable, but he gives no sign of it. He is too consumed with seeing his wife peak so ecstatically. Bess understands the fascination. Georgiana in the throes of paroxysm is an experience Bess will carry to her grave.

G comes down slowly. Bess strokes her; not her quim, but her thighs and her legs, the soft plane of her abdomen, her throat and her cheeks. Her head is lolled back so far on Bess’s shoulder that Bess has been able to see every emotion that has crossed G’s face; wonder, awe, joy, unadulterated bliss. When Georgiana opens her eyes, a woman satisfied, something swells in Bess’s chest.

“Bess,” Georgiana says faintly. “My God. I’ve never –” But G is clever enough not to finish that sentence. “It was extraordinary.” Bess catches G’s hand in her own, kisses her fingertips lightly. It is chaste, and affectionate beyond measure.

“You are welcome, my dearest,” she tells her friend.

“G,” William says abruptly, his voice rasping in his throat like sand over gravel. “Would you –” He breaks off, clears his throat. Bess smiles at him, knowing how he suffers when it comes to expressing feelings of the heart. “I don’t suppose, G, that you’d allow me to do the same? As Bess has done to you, tonight. In the future, perhaps.”

Bess is stunned. William has never showed the slightest hint of desiring anything in the boudoir not strictly conducive to making an heir. She’d tried to show him, back in the beginning, but he was dogged, a man set in his ways. That he might change now is astonishing.

It is also immensely arousing.

Still, they are waiting for her to lighten the moment; certainly G and William have no idea how to. “Well, it certainly can’t be in the past,” Bess quips despite herself, and G giggles. William does not look offended; if anything, he looks surprised at seeing G laugh. Bess supposes he has never given his wife much cause to be joyful.

“I…” G trails off, as if gathering her thoughts. They both have that habit, Bess thinks fondly; she wonders which of them learned it from the other. Bess waits patiently, and raises an eyebrow forcefully at William so he does not interrupt. “If you’d like to.”

“If you’d like me to,” William replies at once. Bess sighs, impatient at these two emotionally constipated individuals that she loves.

“She wants you to, he wants to, it’s a match made in heaven,” she tells them blithely, ignoring the way they both frown. Bess focusses on the pressing issue at hand. “William, would you like me to take care of that?” She nods at his trousers. William frowns.

“Here?” he asks, apparently involuntarily, and Bess rejoices. She does so love to render him frank, stripping all that reserve and doubt away, until she can almost see the man he might have been if not for the weight of Cavendish and everything that he expects himself to be.

“Yes, here, with G beside us,” Bess replies. William looks away.

“It would be disrespectful,” William says, but she can see that he wants to. G coughs, bringing both of their attention back to her. Like, Bess thinks wryly, that anyone could forget G.

“I do not think,” Georgiana says softly, “that I would mind.” There is a mischievous light in her eyes. “I have never seen a man and woman make love before.”

William makes a soft noise. Bess knows it well. It is the sound he makes, the only sound, when he is buried inside her, burning for his release. Bess smiles.

“Then come here, William,” she tells him, shifting G to the side, Georgiana curling up on her side, watching everything with her impossibly dark eyes. Bess holds out her hand. “One of your women are satisfied. The other requires attention.” G laughs softly, and William hesitates.

But like always, when they beckon, William comes. He sits beside Bess on the bed. “What now?” he asks.

Bess smiles.


End file.
